Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Good Decisions All Around
In looking for some artwork for an angel tattoo I am planning on designing, I found one that reminded me that words in tattoos are never a good idea.
Good. Friday!
Today is Good Friday in the Christian/New Testament Religions. It is the day Jesus was crucified and buried in his tomb, when the ground shook, the seas ran red, and Hollywood found a cornerstone for blockbuster films.
This morning I'm rafting on mixed emotions. It's my family's first holiday without my Dad at home. I have epididymitis, diagnosed last night by a guy who, were it not for introducing himself as a doctor and wearing a white jacket, would have been touching me inappropriately. I am working from home - unquote - today, and I am quite happy to not have to go into the office. I have a ton to write about, but little time to do it. My friend Ryan Hamilton is a finalist in the Sierra Mist "Next Great Comic" contest, and after listening to the other dudes, he's got a really great chance at winning. Please check out that site and vote for Ryan. I entered that contest, and didn't make it to the finals. I am really freaking happy that Ryan did. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, myself included.
I have a hard time asking for things, but I'm getting better at it. I used to suffer through somebody else's moving day, then when it came time for me to get out of the halfway house, I would just make 200 trips in the Buick Skyhawk and hope somebody would want to grab a beer later. I realized this at work recently. I asked 30 managers to each send me a list of who they manage. They sent me Adobe PDFs of charts with 1500 names on them, and said "I'm in this organization." Lazy shits. That added to the confusion. I ask for very little at work, and that's what I get. Since then I realized that I'm not doing anything extra for anybody I work with. Not a new spreadsheet, not a test-run of an application, zilch.
I'm ready to get on with my life. My dad's condition's progression over the past 18 months has got me feeling a little anxious, realizing that life is short, especially if you're going to keep living after what you knew as Life is gone. Thankfully, and oddly so, my dad's condition brings on apathy as if it were the norm, he cares very little about anything, shows few emotions. He likes the Inn he's been moved to. He likes it so much that he doesn't really relax when we're with him outside of it, and usually gets anxious and wants to go back. We cannot reason with him or calm him down much. This is what Is, now. It's a new Normal. It sucks. Being defiant of it will not help any of us move on. There is anger and hate and compassion. And a lot of Love and prayers. And at the end of the day we just hope that Dad's happy and healthy, and that our feelings of guilt and anger subside.
You should leave work early today. Make it a Good Friday.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
This morning I'm rafting on mixed emotions. It's my family's first holiday without my Dad at home. I have epididymitis, diagnosed last night by a guy who, were it not for introducing himself as a doctor and wearing a white jacket, would have been touching me inappropriately. I am working from home - unquote - today, and I am quite happy to not have to go into the office. I have a ton to write about, but little time to do it. My friend Ryan Hamilton is a finalist in the Sierra Mist "Next Great Comic" contest, and after listening to the other dudes, he's got a really great chance at winning. Please check out that site and vote for Ryan. I entered that contest, and didn't make it to the finals. I am really freaking happy that Ryan did. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, myself included.
I have a hard time asking for things, but I'm getting better at it. I used to suffer through somebody else's moving day, then when it came time for me to get out of the halfway house, I would just make 200 trips in the Buick Skyhawk and hope somebody would want to grab a beer later. I realized this at work recently. I asked 30 managers to each send me a list of who they manage. They sent me Adobe PDFs of charts with 1500 names on them, and said "I'm in this organization." Lazy shits. That added to the confusion. I ask for very little at work, and that's what I get. Since then I realized that I'm not doing anything extra for anybody I work with. Not a new spreadsheet, not a test-run of an application, zilch.
I'm ready to get on with my life. My dad's condition's progression over the past 18 months has got me feeling a little anxious, realizing that life is short, especially if you're going to keep living after what you knew as Life is gone. Thankfully, and oddly so, my dad's condition brings on apathy as if it were the norm, he cares very little about anything, shows few emotions. He likes the Inn he's been moved to. He likes it so much that he doesn't really relax when we're with him outside of it, and usually gets anxious and wants to go back. We cannot reason with him or calm him down much. This is what Is, now. It's a new Normal. It sucks. Being defiant of it will not help any of us move on. There is anger and hate and compassion. And a lot of Love and prayers. And at the end of the day we just hope that Dad's happy and healthy, and that our feelings of guilt and anger subside.
You should leave work early today. Make it a Good Friday.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
It's A Question That Had To Be Asked
Listening to LoveLine right now, and the comedic genius who is Adam "Ace Rockola" Carolla is fielding a question from a caller with either a drug problem or... who am I kidding... AND a head injury. For sure, the kid's got a bunk smoke detector that's chirping at 1-minute intervals, Adam timed it a second ago. How punk is Adam? The guy don't even gots a website, BE-AH-YATCH!
The kid on the phone said he was getting some sort of allergic reaction after getting oral sex from his girlfriend.
The guest says "Dude, you're allergic to fellatio?"
Adam asks the question I wish that had to be asked, from a comedic standpoint but would never fly on stage:
"How long before America's got a black kid named Fellatio? Or whaddya think, think there's already one family out there named a kid Fellatio?"
I had to share that with you, it simply could NOT go by the wayside.
Reacharound Jackson
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
The kid on the phone said he was getting some sort of allergic reaction after getting oral sex from his girlfriend.
The guest says "Dude, you're allergic to fellatio?"
Adam asks the question I wish that had to be asked, from a comedic standpoint but would never fly on stage:
"How long before America's got a black kid named Fellatio? Or whaddya think, think there's already one family out there named a kid Fellatio?"
I had to share that with you, it simply could NOT go by the wayside.
Reacharound Jackson
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Testing, Testing, Is This Thing On?
By now we all are aware of the Terry Schiavo case in Florida. I expect it to be a punchline in many comics acts very soon as they attempt to appear edgy and "Stanhope-like." But here's how I figure we can end the debate.
Terry Schiavo's brain activity is near zero. Her EEGs are at zero, showing no thoughts or firing of neurons towards cognition of surroundings and Life as defined by medical experts. Her spirit, her aenima has left. Her body is being biologically wheelbarrowed each day by people who are split between dying with dignity, and hoping for a miracle. The Congressman on Capital Hill who is heralding the re-insertion of her feeding tube is also the biggest supporter of the Death Penalty, so that doesn't seem to work out for me. Both subjects, in that case, are being removed from life support by judges.
Anyway, if you wanna see if Terry's still alive, play her an audio cassette tape recording of the works of the inexplicably popular "Larry The Cable Guy."
If she does not react, there's your answer: She's Fine.
================
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Terry Schiavo's brain activity is near zero. Her EEGs are at zero, showing no thoughts or firing of neurons towards cognition of surroundings and Life as defined by medical experts. Her spirit, her aenima has left. Her body is being biologically wheelbarrowed each day by people who are split between dying with dignity, and hoping for a miracle. The Congressman on Capital Hill who is heralding the re-insertion of her feeding tube is also the biggest supporter of the Death Penalty, so that doesn't seem to work out for me. Both subjects, in that case, are being removed from life support by judges.
Anyway, if you wanna see if Terry's still alive, play her an audio cassette tape recording of the works of the inexplicably popular "Larry The Cable Guy."
If she does not react, there's your answer: She's Fine.
================
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Monday, March 21, 2005
Comedy, Harmony, Tony Moser's Bottom Lip, And My A.D.D.
I would like to give a giant "THANK YOU!" to everyone who came over to Laughs Comedy Live Show And BYOB Lounge this past weekend! You helped sell out both shows, yet had some trouble with the bar staff. I hope you got your money's worth out of the show.
My hair looked really awesome, thanks to Jeni at Salon Rivera in Bellevue. Go check that place out on 3rd and 105th, just to see how tiny a dog can actually be.
Blue (from Canada) was great. He didn't pander Canadian, had a great, loose set that had the crowd going from the start, and really helped kick the night off.
Fahim was Fahim-enal on Friday night, again bringing new and funny stuff to the table. He could really go somewhere with his talents, as long as he doesn't let his mechanical engineering degree trip him up. From his last few blogs, I think he's trying to tank his education so he can go on the road in the next 18 months. Good play, Fahim. Check and mate.
Travis Simmons, hey bud, thanks for doing 15 minutes. Also, thanks for stretching it out over 25 minutes and pushing the end of the show out to nearly 10:45. Again, you took a comedy show and did what you could to make it about you. The best thing I heard from you all night was the sound of your car starting. Be cool to the other comics by not eating that much time with nothing to really solidify your set. Ridiculous.
Didi McCarty had a great set on Saturday night. Everyone was talking about it after the show, wondering who "that first girl" was. She was actually the only girl, unless you count Charles Darby and me. Nice work Didi! I hope you got some ayse this weekend, like you were hopin' for.
Dan Moore eased into a great little set. He's gotten better since he slowed down. At one point he was going backwards. I was surprised, and happily so, to see Dan in attendance and center-stage. Thanks Dan!
Charles Darby did an admirable job with a crowd that couldn't tell if they were ready to laugh or not. I think the bar service threw people off on Saturday night. 3 people making drinks and nobody taking orders or running them, that's what caused the line at the bar. Charles, I hope it all went well at Misty's for ya. Did you see Didi over there?
Yes. I'm kind of a dick.
========
Yesterday I was floating in some sort of abyss, emotionally. I didn't have much to give by way of creativity, likeability, focus, or energy. I would just as soon fold laundry and stare at a wall as lay in bed and stare at Pink Floyd's "The Wall" mirror I have hanging eternal on my ceiling. Anything sounded like it would have been fun to do, but nothing was so fun as to jolt me out of my blueness. I had a caffeine rush that kind of got me moving, but after 80 minutes I crashed back to my reality that is Kenmore:
Tomorrow, I have to go to work.
So here I am again. Last night I dreaded this place. And this morning it's been worse than I imagined. This company is paying some people upwards of $85,000 a year to manage 2 people. And those 2 people are self-contained, technical survival units. So basically the Manager is getting a ganglion cash-cyst for hounding holy hell out of me for numbers they don't really fathom. I'm overpaid for a baby-sitter, but underpaid for making a lot of these turds come up smelling rosey.
I read an article last night about the number of thoughts and brain activity quotients people work within during the day. An average person, such as me, has 3,000 to 4,000 thoughts each day. That ranges from associating a shoe with its color to how much money you have left in that jar under the floorboard next to the ammo and canned soups. The most successful people in the world, such as the top-level athletes, investment bankers, stock-swindling muffin mavens, and Travis Simmons, have a different number of thoughts each day. In fact, they have about 1/3rd the number of thoughts. Why is that?
Confidence? Intuition? Fearlessness? It's a "Thought-Act" process, I believe. It's being "in the zone." Playing loose. Michael Jordan's tongue would wag when he was in it. Relaxed performance, the mind has slowed to process what's important NOW, and not what needs to be done on THURSDAY (Ikea trip) nor what went wrong this weekend (rusty build-up on a few jokes). Letting it go and getting NOW handled.
I focus more when I'm writing. Creating. Producing something from my brain's recesses. I feel more balanced with that happening. Blogging, some days, is my only respite from the MBA-tards I work with/for. I've come out of the abyss, and know what I have to do for now. And that is, sigh... work.
================
Dave Attell tickets go on sale at NOON today.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
My hair looked really awesome, thanks to Jeni at Salon Rivera in Bellevue. Go check that place out on 3rd and 105th, just to see how tiny a dog can actually be.
Blue (from Canada) was great. He didn't pander Canadian, had a great, loose set that had the crowd going from the start, and really helped kick the night off.
Fahim was Fahim-enal on Friday night, again bringing new and funny stuff to the table. He could really go somewhere with his talents, as long as he doesn't let his mechanical engineering degree trip him up. From his last few blogs, I think he's trying to tank his education so he can go on the road in the next 18 months. Good play, Fahim. Check and mate.
Travis Simmons, hey bud, thanks for doing 15 minutes. Also, thanks for stretching it out over 25 minutes and pushing the end of the show out to nearly 10:45. Again, you took a comedy show and did what you could to make it about you. The best thing I heard from you all night was the sound of your car starting. Be cool to the other comics by not eating that much time with nothing to really solidify your set. Ridiculous.
Didi McCarty had a great set on Saturday night. Everyone was talking about it after the show, wondering who "that first girl" was. She was actually the only girl, unless you count Charles Darby and me. Nice work Didi! I hope you got some ayse this weekend, like you were hopin' for.
Dan Moore eased into a great little set. He's gotten better since he slowed down. At one point he was going backwards. I was surprised, and happily so, to see Dan in attendance and center-stage. Thanks Dan!
Charles Darby did an admirable job with a crowd that couldn't tell if they were ready to laugh or not. I think the bar service threw people off on Saturday night. 3 people making drinks and nobody taking orders or running them, that's what caused the line at the bar. Charles, I hope it all went well at Misty's for ya. Did you see Didi over there?
Yes. I'm kind of a dick.
========
Yesterday I was floating in some sort of abyss, emotionally. I didn't have much to give by way of creativity, likeability, focus, or energy. I would just as soon fold laundry and stare at a wall as lay in bed and stare at Pink Floyd's "The Wall" mirror I have hanging eternal on my ceiling. Anything sounded like it would have been fun to do, but nothing was so fun as to jolt me out of my blueness. I had a caffeine rush that kind of got me moving, but after 80 minutes I crashed back to my reality that is Kenmore:
Tomorrow, I have to go to work.
So here I am again. Last night I dreaded this place. And this morning it's been worse than I imagined. This company is paying some people upwards of $85,000 a year to manage 2 people. And those 2 people are self-contained, technical survival units. So basically the Manager is getting a ganglion cash-cyst for hounding holy hell out of me for numbers they don't really fathom. I'm overpaid for a baby-sitter, but underpaid for making a lot of these turds come up smelling rosey.
I read an article last night about the number of thoughts and brain activity quotients people work within during the day. An average person, such as me, has 3,000 to 4,000 thoughts each day. That ranges from associating a shoe with its color to how much money you have left in that jar under the floorboard next to the ammo and canned soups. The most successful people in the world, such as the top-level athletes, investment bankers, stock-swindling muffin mavens, and Travis Simmons, have a different number of thoughts each day. In fact, they have about 1/3rd the number of thoughts. Why is that?
Confidence? Intuition? Fearlessness? It's a "Thought-Act" process, I believe. It's being "in the zone." Playing loose. Michael Jordan's tongue would wag when he was in it. Relaxed performance, the mind has slowed to process what's important NOW, and not what needs to be done on THURSDAY (Ikea trip) nor what went wrong this weekend (rusty build-up on a few jokes). Letting it go and getting NOW handled.
I focus more when I'm writing. Creating. Producing something from my brain's recesses. I feel more balanced with that happening. Blogging, some days, is my only respite from the MBA-tards I work with/for. I've come out of the abyss, and know what I have to do for now. And that is, sigh... work.
================
Dave Attell tickets go on sale at NOON today.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
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